One Too Many
by NamiHatake
Summary: Weiss has a little too much to drink at Blake's birthday party. This is the tale of her lamenting her predicament and a reminder that things can always get worse.


_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Weiss tried her hardest to focus on the sound of the leaky faucet, desperate for another moment of brief clarity.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

She had managed to prop herself up against the filthy wall, having no choice but to let her head fall back against it. God only knew how stained her dress was and she didn't even want to think about the mess that was her hair. Her head swam and her vision was doubled. She didn't dare close her eyes because even when she blinked the room spun.

She stared blankly for a moment before returning to herself, repulsed by what she was fairly certain was mold.

How had the night gone so wrong? How had she ended up slumped in the corner stall of a seedy club's disgusting bathroom next to a toilet that probably hadn't been cleaned in weeks in a puddle of water, urine, or her own vomit? She couldn't tell and she really didn't want to know.

She was an heiress. A proper young lady. She should never have ever come here. It was...it was disgraceful. Her father would be appalled, but to hell with him. It was her sister who would be most disappointed, and that was unacceptable. Her whole situation was unacceptable.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

She caught consciousness starting to wane again as she realized the two pieces of peeling paint on the door were actually one.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

At least she could take some comfort in the noise barrier created by the bathroom door. The club's thumping rave music had been too much for her taste long before she'd found herself in this state. The echo of the dripping faucet was far more peaceful in comparison.

She tried to lift her arm, but could barely look down far enough to see with. The stain on her sleeve, she noticed, was a color she wasn't familiar with.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Why,_ she asked herself, _why am I here?_ In her hazy, alcohol addled mind she tried to recall how much she had drank, angry with Yang for expecting her to keep up the first place. She was more angry at Sun for offering her a pipe in front of Neptune, as if daring her to try it to look 'fun.'

So many poor choices. So much mold. So much peeling paint.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

She had only agreed to come here in the first place to celebrate Blake's eighteenth birthday. If they had all just listened to her, they would be having a nice dinner now in a nice restaurant...

The mere thought of food made her nauseous, but she could only dry heave, having already emptied the contents of her stomach moments ago in the most violent manner she had ever experienced or thought possible. How did the others do this? She didn't even remember eating most of what she'd expelled.

 _Blake._ Why did Blake, who seemed to have no interest in drinking, clubs, any of it really, want to come here? She hadn't participated in any of it either! Why hadn't Blake asked how she was feeling? Why hadn't Blake noticed her hurriedly and clumsily making her way towards the bathroom? Why hadn't Blake followed her? She of all people should have observed how sick she was!

Instead, she had been forced to sneak away, barely managing to get to the bathroom at all, and falling just short enough of the toilet to make her situation even worse. She glanced down at her sleeve once more, still bothered that she couldn't place the color and irritated that it even existed.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _Focus._ She had to keep reminding herself to focus. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move, she could only see straight for seconds at a time. Her evening had gone about the worst it could possibly go. Never in her life had she imagined herself in such a dreadful place in such a dreadful state.

Unable to fathom how to save herself, she sat waiting for one of her teammates, one of her 'friends,' to come and find her. She sat listening to the leaking faucet, trying desperately not to panic. She sat looking through the slightly open stall wondering if the latch was broken or she had left it unlocked in her hurry to expel the absurd amount of liquor her body had rejected...among other things. She sat staring at the heavy bathroom door that was in dire need of painting, much like the walls and the stalls themselves, pleading for the night to be over.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

The entire room only amplified her disgust. Everything seemed to be covered in grime and haphazardly carved into with vulgar words and hateful names, most of which were obviously written by barely literate degenerates. The end of the long sink was slightly visible, just enough so for her to notice a roll of half wet paper towels, no doubt because the dispenser had been broken beyond repair. The sink itself and the dripping faucet for which she was so grateful were not visible from where she sat, just a sliver of a mirror so dirty it no longer held a reflection of the room.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _When,_ she pleaded with her pounding head and limp limbs, _when will this just stop?_ She tried once more to close her eyes, praying that she could just fall asleep and pretend that she was far, far away from this place, but she regretted it in an instant as a horrid feeling akin to sea sickness washed over her and made her entire body shiver and her skin crawl. For a brief moment she felt like she was dying.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

 _I don't deserve this,_ she told herself, _this is NEVER going to happen again._ Taking a deep shaky breath, she focused again on the blessed dripping faucet and heavy, wooden door and reminded herself that it couldn't get any worse. She glanced down again, still frustrated by the ambiguous color on her sleeve.

 _Drip. Drip. CRASH._

All at once, the door burst open and the loud bass of the club's obnoxiously loud speakers poured in. Weiss was startled, but her body remained stationary. Instead, she felt like her heart had actually skipped a beat. It frightened her, but she held out hope that perhaps her friends had finally come to apologize and take her away from this hell hole.

The headache brought on by the noise outside the bathroom quickly overshadowed her thoughts and it took her a moment to realize who _had_ come in. Her already low spirits plummeted.

A very, _very_ enthusiastic couple had burst in and from what Weiss could tell, they were having a contest of who could shove their tongue farther down the other's throat. _Great. Just great,_ she lamented, _what was tonight missing again? Oh, that's right, debauchery._ It pained her that she couldn't shout at them almost as much as it pained her that she couldn't look away.

Despite her blurred vision, it was obvious where this was going. The girl was clawing at the man's neck and hair with one hand as her other hand hastily made it's way between their two bodies. The man was busy fondling her with both hands and his head didn't wait long to join them. _Seriously,_ she questioned, _here?!_

In a blur of black and white, he grabbed her by the waist, picked her up, and sat her on the sink. Weiss was happy at first to only have sight of one of them, until she realized what he was doing.

The man wasted no time in removing the lower half of one of the girl's stockings, diving his face behind her now bare leg and tossing it over his shoulder. The sound of the dripping faucet seemed to have been muffled by her hair, replaced with mewls and moans intermittent with sucking noises.

 _Ahhh...Nnnggh...AHHH..._

Weiss mentally cringed at the new sounds, wanting for all the world for the pair to notice her and leave, but it was clear they had only one thing on their minds.

 _AHHHH...AHHHH...MMMM..._

She stared hard at the door for what seemed like an eternity, waiting impatiently until the girl's passionate vocals reached a crescendo and finally ceased.

Unfortunately for Weiss, the couple hadn't quite finished. The man pulled the girl up to kiss her again... _urgh_...and in another monochromatic whirlwind, picked her up and pinned her to the wall. They were now blocking some of Weiss's eyeline to the door, her last somewhat stable focal point ruined by the man's back as he violently thrust into his partner. The dripping faucet had been drowned out again by groans and moans and a horrid sticky wet suction sound followed every time with the slap of flesh against flesh.

 _Squish. AHHHH. Slap._

She tried with what little strength she now possessed to glare daggers at the back of his stark white coat. It was so clean whereas everything about this place, this situation, was far from it.

 _Slap. Squish. Ahhh._

She looked from the man's coat to her sleeve and back again. The color contrasted so intensely from...well...whatever that was...as well as from the drab green and what was possibly once burgundy walls of the bathroom. The irony was not lost on her, despite her mind's regrettable state.

 _Squish. Ahhhh. Slap._

Weiss's eyes grew large as she finally recognized the male of the offensive couple. Above the white collar was bright orange hair. It was Roman Torchwick.

Horrorstruck and furious, Weiss struggled to move, to make a sound, anything. Her faculties seemed to have given up on her and all she managed to do was let her head fall slightly to the side.

 _AHHH. Slap. Squish._

Torchwick and whatever floozy he was copulating with were far too loud for the dull thud of her head hitting the stall door to be heard and definitely too distracted by one another to notice the stall door, already ajar, open just another inch.

Weiss however, was very much aware of both. Not only had her headache managed to worsen, but her view of the scene had widened, a scene which she hoped to God she was too drunk and high to remember in the morning.

 _Slap. Squish. AHHHHHH._

Torchwick whispered something into the girl's ear and she dropped to her knees. Repulsed, Weiss watched as Torchwick grabbed a handful of her long, wavy black hair to cushion the back of her head as she helped him finish, another act accompanied by unwanted groans of pleasure, wet slurping and occasionally stifled gagging.

 _AHHHHH...YESSSSS...MMMMMM_

After several more excruciating minutes, Torchwick leaned his head against the wall while the girl...well, she didn't want to think about it. She was relieved that at least those noises were almost too muffled to hear, and simultaneously wished his groaning could be stifled as well.

 _At least,_ Weiss thought, _it's over._ She glared at the door trying not to pay attention as the girl rose and the two started kissing again... _URGH_. _This night,_ she told herself, _really could not have been worse._ The girl made her way to the mirror and out of sight as she redressed, presumably trying to remove any evidence of what she'd just done. Torchwick seemed to be doing the same, but not with as much urgency.

They spoke in hushed voices and Weiss's head was still swimming, but she made out enough to know what they were discussing - when and where they would meet again, how she needed to hurry back before her friends came looking for her, and that he had better not have left any visible marks. _So this is what an affair sounds like. How grotesque._

Without a second look back the pair headed towards the door, the girl adjusting her bow and stopping just a moment to plant one more kiss on Torchwick's lips. She drew back just far enough and for long enough for Weiss to catch a glimpse of her face. The bright smile she flashed him reached her large amber eyes and earned her a rather heavy handed slap on the ass.

Weiss wouldn't have trusted her sight, but something else had caught her attention. There was a distinct white design on the girl's upper thigh. Her moment of recognition was briefly delayed as the door opened and the cacophony of club music again flooded the room. She heard Torchwick say, "Happy birthday, Kitten," above the din just before the door slammed shut, leaving her alone once again to vomit what could only have been stomach acid.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Weiss could feel her consciousness slipping away and knew that she would never remember what happened. As much as she didn't want to, she knew she had to, but it was too late. Darkness was already clouding her vision. She would never be able to properly scold her teammate for dragging her here and putting her through this all so she could have sex with an enemy - for what was clearly not the first time - in a disgusting bathroom. She heard the faint sound of her own voice, hoarse and weak, choking out a name.

"Blake?"

Focusing on that damn leaky faucet and the unknown color that tainted the fabric of her sleeve, Weiss abruptly succumbed to sleep, the night's events already long forgotten.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._


End file.
